


until the horror goes

by g4t1t0



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Drug Use, PTSD, Resurrection, bad coping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-05-23 08:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14930351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/g4t1t0/pseuds/g4t1t0
Summary: The direct aftermath of the events in p5 had little effect on Akira- at first. The more distance he gains from that final battle, the more he finds himself unable cope with reality around him. His friends do their best, try to console him, try to anchor him to reality, but it feels futile.He can’t seem to outrun the shadows lurking behind him or the whispers constantly in his ears.That in itself is isolating, though there is someone who understands, more than anyone could. Someone who has always understood in his own way.Goro tries to adapt to a world that has forgotten his name, while Akira tries to find his place in a world that barely knows his.my bride my bride how do i silence/this restlessness inside me/this chaos thats residing in the lulls?(Part of the shuakeshu big bang)





	1. full set of broken teeth

i.  
The time and space that exists around Akira Kurusu always seems to fade into a deep and endless gray. Around him the world is moving in the present, advancing towards the future. The disconnect remains an expansive fissure in reality- he can only ever seem to relive the past. Awake or asleep, there’s nothing that haunts his brain so persistently. 

Some days are almost easy. Those days he slips into his routine and performs as best he can: not a robot in an assembly line, but a spirit roaming a world of which he never quite fit.

Some days, however, are so hard that he wants to hide. He wants to take solace in his dusty attic and let the storm pass as he rewatches rom-coms or listens to books on tape. It’s these days that standing audience with people he knows and loves feels more like a sentence and less like a choice. He’s never wanted anything more than to connect to his friends like he had before.

Lately his words seem to fail him more and more, and he’s never too sure if what he’s saying is the right thing.

At times he finds himself praying that he can just feel better, just be happy, just feel anything other than static and a perpetual ‘NO SIGNAL’ in his head. He finds himself praying that whatever curse he’s under will weaken and free him from this thick fog. He prays he’ll just snap out of it.

It’s been this way for a little over a year, and it’s been shy of two years since everything changed. Akira wishes he could go back to his life before the Velvet Room, before the Phantom Thieves, before Yaldabaoth-

Before he had the astronomical chance of meeting Goro Akechi and entering the celestial game of fucking chess that neither of them had any chance of winning.

Goro maintains that Akira won. He ended the game with the most pieces and took out the king, all the while his pawns remained widely unharmed.

Surrounded by those pawns, his friends, it’s easy to see how he had won. Ultimately, he never truly died, his hard work paid off, and he was surrounded by people who _wanted_ to see him win. 

What he struggles to grasp is the hungry feeling deep in his stomach. He wakes up overwhelmed with an emptiness, or more an echo of loneliness. He does a headcount and comes up short, though he’s not sure who is missing.

Again and again, until he finally realizes it’s himself he’s missing.

He was no one before the Metaverse, and regardless of all he’d been through, all the lives he saved and those he changed, he feels exactly the same. He’s still no one to himself, and he’s still no one to the world.

Is that so bad? There are times he’s content with his anonymity, content with being a silent hero. He finds solace in his friends and knows he’s not truly unknown. 

Then there’s that ache. A similar sensation to seeing a god fall before you, hearing the world celebrate you, feeling the tremors of a terrified shadow begging for mercy. It’s a dangerous ache, one that he tries to ignore.

Akira has never been greedy, nor has he ever been remotely ambitious. 

It’s that ache for approval, celebration, respect, fear… 

It’s that ache that reminds him how similar he and Goro are.

—

For the first time in a few weeks (a measurement of time which has become inappropriate, as all measurements have), Akira feels... like himself, vaguely. He’s still displaced and out of sync with his surroundings, but physically he’s returned to a world of nuance. Details that were inconsequential before now bore deep into his nerves to an uncomfortable degree. The sensation is reminiscent of his state in momentos- hyper-aware and prepared to take on anything he’s faced with. The return in confidence is a relief.

He’s sitting on the couch in the dusty attic above Leblanc. The draft bites at his toes and makes his fingers ache, but the cold is welcomed.

Since he returned to the city and began working for Sojiro, he’s really only noticed a steady decline in his mental health. There was the hope that coming back would wake him up and return him to his former unglory. Maybe being around his teammates would be a reality check, remind him who he really is and not who he wishes he was.

The hope was extinguished, crushed like nothing more than a bug beneath his shoe. In place of normality, grandiosity had germinated.

He orchestrates his morning, dressing silently to a practiced tune he’s composed in his head and combing through his wild hair with his fingers. He mumbles mindlessly to Morgana about a dream he had last night, a dream he keeps having, which Morgana is ever sympathetic to.

“But you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Everyone is safe now, thanks to you! We’re all moving on to better things.”

What better things?, he asks himself. The best is behind him, and had only lasted a fleeting moment. His reality has become suffocating.

He hums in agreement anyways.

Below, he hears patrons enter and Sojiro welcoming them. After checking himself in the mirror and practicing a welcoming grin a few times, he slips his shoes on and walks downstairs.

Sojiro greets him silently and points to the French press. After tying his apron on, Akira practices his composition he’s played many times. To some extent, his masks are his instruments. 

Strange how his propensity never extended to music. Ann has noted how it would be unfair if Akira was good at everything, so naturally he should be tone deaf.

Regardless, he hums the duration of his short four hour shift. In its own way, it's useful for dulling the overstimulating effect of murmurs and silverware clanging. It never makes time pass normally, however. Time remains in a limbo somewhere on the spectrum of a blink of an eye and an eternity. He can never seem to balance the extremes.

When Sojiro dismisses him, it’s almost a relief. The sounds of the cafe had begun drilling into Akira’s nerves, reducing him to a unfocused trembling mess. If it weren’t for the dim lighting, he knows a migraine would have developed by now.

After hanging his apron back up, he climbs the stairs again, all but ready to pull his pajamas back on. As he swallows down a handful of pills Tae had given him for his headaches, he revels in the idea of crawling back into bed and wasting the rest of the day. Part of him feels as if he’s forgetting something.

On cue, his phone vibrates a reminder alert.

“MALL 1PM”

-

The short walk to the subway seems to stretch out forever. With every step, the alleys grow in length and the stairs grow in height. Akira feels slow, as if he’s wading through muddy waters; weak as if he is carrying the world on his shoulders.

Naturally, the subway car is packed, and it wouldn’t bother Akira. Today, however, every brush against a commuting businessman or student sends a painful jolt to his brain. He is floating in a deep black mire and fearful of what swims beneath him. Always fearful of what lives below. It remains a struggle to shake the heavy anxiety that follows him into the underground and into the phantom of Mementos.

It’s a relief when he piles out of the tightly packed car with a few other commuters. He swallows the air, though it’s no less thick than stagnant water.

He begins the short trek to the mall, but there’s something growing inside him, searing his gut. The muck he wades in is heavier, deeper, and soon he’s drowning in it. It feels like anxiety, but he knows it’s more than just that. It’s similar to the dread, the edge that would drive him in battle. When he glances around, the disconnect is once again obvious. No one else seems to notice the weighted atmosphere as they move about their mundane, normal day. 

As he looks around the platform, searching for any sign of danger, he begins to draw attention. Gazes begin to follow his unremarkable form as he searches for the source of the heavy angst. It’s his responsibility to protect, so he wanders deeper into the station, forgetting the task at hand.

He’s been waiting for a moment like this to remind everyone, himself included, how important he could be.

“Akira, what is it?” Morgana chimes from his place in Akira’s bag. There’s a slight concern in his voice, but it only confirms Akira’s suspicion. Morgana must be sensing the darkness as well.

A cold prickle begins forming at his neck as his hair stands on end. He tunes into the danger gradually, then quickly.

“Something is wrong.”

The shift is almost unnoticeable as he steps out of reality and into Mementos. In thalt moment he’s surrounded by familiar figures- hulking black masses, empty masks for faces. While he’s expectedly unprepared, he’s far from scared. He has convinced himself he fits here better than anywhere. It’s something he can control, something seemingly built in a basic algorithm by which he is dually prey and predator. It’s a place he comfortably slips through. It’s a place he is himself. It’s a place of which he belongs.

He steels himself for a fight, steadies himself and lifts his arms before him to protect himself and Morgana. 

The fight doesn’t come. In fact, the shadows surrounding him barely even register him as an intruder. One or two glance at him, their hollow masks displaying a semblance of irritation, but ultimately pass by him uninterested.

It takes strength to keep himself from demasking the shadows surrounding him.

Morgana notices the change inside of Akira, and he warns against it.

“Akira, you have to stay with me. Don’t forget where we are!”

Akira grimaces. He hasn’t forgotten where they are- he’s prepared to bring any enemy down if they threaten him or Mona. He surveys the area, but his stomach begins to turn when he realizes something critical.

Arsene isn’t with him, he’s unarmed, and he’s totally out of practice. Even if the shadows are passive now, there’s no way to know that this isn’t a trick and he won’t be ambushed. As he takes in the bustling hoard of shadows, his blood finally runs cold. He and Mona are outnumbered, and any move could spell harm for them. 

He swallows when he notices his heart beating in his throat. The risk grows the longer he stays here, and he can’t stand the thought of his own insolence resulting in any harm to his friends- not ever again.

So he runs.

With practiced precision, he slips between the crowd and deeper into the dark twisting tunnels. But to where, exactly? It’s hard to make a plan when the sound of blood rushing and chains rattling flood his skull. He relies on his instinct to carry himself and Mona somewhere safe.

Time begins to stretch once more. He isn’t sure how long he’s been running or where he is when he feels a firm grip on his arm. A scream dies in his throat and he braces himself. He spins on his heel to come face to face with-

“Fox.” Akira whispers.

Except it’s not Fox, it’s Yusuke, and they’re not in Mementos, they’re in the subway station.

Akira glances around only to see the shadows have completely disappeared, again replaced by commuters. Only to see that everything is back to normal.

“Fuck.” He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head.

Yusuke lets go of Akira’s wrist and stares at him. The pity in his face is enough to make Akira sick. He disengages eye contact with Yusuke and steps back.

“I got lost.” Akira looks down and twirls a strand of hair around a shaking finger.

“So it seems. I was coming down the escalator and saw you running. Did something happen, Kurusu?” Yusuke frowns.

Akira shakes his head slowly, but he feels himself get dizzy.

“No, I’m okay. I just got lost.”

His stomach turns as he and Yusuke walk back to the mall. His nerves are fried, and despite his attempts to act naturally, he can’t help but look over his shoulder.

-

Yusuke and Morgana chat on the way to the staircase near the mall, though Akira struggles to stay tuned in. 

When he sees the small collection of his friends- Ann leaning against the wall checking her phone as Ryuji and Futaba argue on the staircase about the continuity issues of the most recent anime they had watched- relief sets in. They seem widely unaffected by the change in scenery, and unharmed. Akira lets out a long sigh.

It didn’t actually happen. Of course it didn’t, he thinks, I’m just losing it.

Despite the remaining tension in his head, he wills himself to calmness and greets Ann with a hug. If she gives him an awkward smile, a worried look, he certainly doesn’t notice it. What he does notice, and is immensely grateful for, is the distracting argument erupting between Futaba and Ryuji. The two are animated, and it’s almost enough to bring him back to reality.

Akira is content to listen, and luckily his silence isn’t terribly out of place. When Ann offers to grab something for him to eat and he declines, she pats him on the back (I’ll get you something anyways, you look hungry!) and takes Futaba with her.

It hasn’t been five minutes when Akira begins to grow restless once more, anxiously glancing over his shoulder and checking the time on his phone. 

“I’m going to find Ann and Futaba.” He announces.

Yusuke grabs his arm, his face stern.

“Actually, it’s rather crowded.” Yusuke comments and crosses his arms. “I propose we relocate. I can text Ann and Futaba to meet us outside.”

“Seconded.” Morgana chirps promptly from Akira’s shoulder. “Only because... It’s crowded! It’s stuffy in here, right Akira?”

He hums, apprehension once more building in his gut. He doesn’t want to leave Ann and Futaba alone in this dangerous place. Ann can no doubt defend herself, but if something happened to either of them, the blood would end up on Akira’s hands. He can’t handle the already mounting guilt, and he so desperately wants to go after them just to make sure they’re safe.

But he stays standing near the steps of the subway, looking into the swarm of people.

That ache returns. He wants so badly to change their lives, to save them from their bosses and their husbands and their bullies-

When he turns his back to follow Yusuke and Ryuji up the stairs, he can feel the disappointment in the masses behind him. There is only so much he can do without the metaverse, but he can’t stand the thought that he is forsaking these people.

What more can he do? Once again, he is no one.

-

“I wish you would talk to us.” 

It’s late in the day, and Ryuji and Yusuke have already gone home.

Futaba waits with Akira and Morgana for their train, and she idly picks at her nails. It’s a bad habit they both share.

“About what? We talked today.” Akira crosses his arms and looks down the tracks.

“You know what I’m talking about!” She frowns. “Everyone knows. Something’s wrong, and you won’t tell us.”

“There’s nothing wrong. I’ve just been really busy, so I’m tired.” He pulls from his stockpile of excuses, but it’s evident in Futaba’s face that it doesn’t work.

“She’s right.” Morgana says, “We’ve been with you through it all, Akira. We’ll understand.”

Despite their encouragement, Akira can’t seem to agree.


	2. hopeless helpless or begging you to stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry for inconsistent posting im in the middle of moving and being sick :( thank you for being patient 
> 
> i want to thank those of you who read/commented/otherwise interacted w ch 1 ive put more work into this fic than i have any other project and im rly happy even if its just a few people who are able to read it so thank you:') this is my favorite chapter im so happy to share it ! please enjoy !!
> 
> illustration for this chapter by [risa](http://jotaro.tumblr.com/) who drew akiras stubble and made me so powerful support your local risa..

ii.  
_Upon his first visit back to Tokyo, after his high school graduation, Akira receives an unexpected text._

_[Shibuya. Please come alone.]_

_The day is pleasant with a breeze to cool down the warming weather. Despite the temperate morning, Akira can’t help the prickle of sweat that forms on his neck._

_He used to be so cool, so composed. He lets out a breathy laugh. What happened?_

_A heavy sense of anxiety settles inside of him, manifesting itself in the form of a splitting headache. A realization erupts that he could ruin this again- take this second chance and sabotage it._

_He had asked Morgana to wait with Futaba, constructed some excuse as to why he wanted to be alone, and boarded a late morning train._

_He’s near the door of the crowded car, staring into the darkness of the subway tunnel. Once his stop is announced, he all but springs out onto the platform. That feeling of nervousness evolves into something else-_

_Among the crowd of commuters, under the buzz of voices, Akira finds himself actually excited._

_He steels himself for the inevitable._

_The platform clears._

_And Akira can feel his heart in his throat._

_Goro’s eyes flit from face to face, and when Akira catches them with his own, it’s almost as if time has frozen completely. They stand before each other only separated by a few feet and many months of longing._

_What shocks Goro isn’t Akira’s haircut. It isn’t his face unobstructed by those dumb kitschy plastic glasses. It isn’t the forming stubble at his chin. It isn’t even how Akira has obviously been working out. No, what shocks Goro isn’t Akira’s appearance, but rather how happy he looks to see him._

_The detective does everything he can to keep his feet on the ground. Part of him feels like he’s floating away, while another part is seconds away from running in the opposite direction._

_Akira approaches Goro carefully, as if he knows how close the older man is to running. Once he is in arm’s reach, Akira can’t help but grab the tired face before him and stare deep into his eyes, looking for an imposter, a shadow, anything other than the real Akechi Goro. When Goro begins to sweat and looks away a bit too abruptly, Akira all but barks out a laugh and pulls him close._

_At one time, Goro was immovable and unbreakable. He stood above everyone in every way and reveled in that isolation._

_Then came someone who tore down those walls with bare hands, someone who grabs at him now and holds him close._

_Goro closes his eyes and finds himself shaking when he feels Akira’s heart hammering just as fast as his own._

_They have always been so similar._

_He knows he was never any better than Akira, and he knows Akira doesn’t fault him for thinking that maybe he was. In the end, Akira was truly the better man. For all his patience and mercy, Goro is grateful._

_[He leans into the warmth of the hug and is unable to stop himself from tearing up.](https://shuakeshubb.tumblr.com/post/174794137069/drew-this-scene-from-until-it-goes-by-ari-so) _

_-_

_They’re sitting across from each other, and the silence is smothering. Goro’s throat is full of words that he know will not be enough, words that make it hard to breathe._

_Where would he start?_

_He had scripted this moment, played through every outcome in his head and convinced himself he would be in charge of the situation._

_Sitting before Akira now with nothing between them but two cups of untouched coffee, Goro realizes how unprepared he is. There are so many things he aches to say, so many things he wants Akira to know. Things he _needs_ Akira to know._

_He puts his hands on the table and laces his fingers. He knows how he must look. The shadows under his eyes are deep, uncovered by makeup, and his hair has grown longer, unkempt. He wants to apologize for his appearance, and for himself. He wants to apologize for things he’s not quite sure he’s even sorry for._

_When he opens his mouth to speak, Akira places his hand on Goro’s. They’re warm and strong and wide, just like Goro remembers. They’re safe, secure, an anchor keeping Goro still in an ocean of worry._

_His words falter._

_“Akechi Goro,” Akira almost whispers, his voice breaking only slightly._

_“I’m so happy to see you.”_

_-_

_Akira is characteristically quiet and introspective. In the past, it had made Goro apprehensive and untrusting. Now he’s grateful for it. After all he had been through, he’s desperate for the patience. Most of the time at the secluded cafe, and later at the park, Akira waits, eager for Goro to speak._

_It’s midday now, and the park is still. Goro is lost in thought, lost in a world that has forgotten him completely. He had worked for it all, fought for it, and had nothing to show for it. His body was ruined, his life had ended (in more ways than one), Shido was alive._

_Everything was the same._

_He had driven himself insane in the short time between his death and this meeting. Goro wasn’t supposed to miss Akira. He wasn’t supposed to long for him this way. A swarm of emotions gathers in his gut and he finds himself face to face with realizations he had been avoiding._

_He jumps slightly as he feels Akira’s hand brush away tears he wasn’t aware of. The touch is safe and there’s no threat in the calloused fingers or the chewed down nails. If anything, Goro is reminded of something. If he reached far enough, maybe he could find a name._

_It’s there, though. A familiar feeling he had held once- wrapped tightly in the arms of someone who cared. For a moment, he wasn’t undesirable, or a mistake. Someone had to have loved him at some point, right?_

_He can’t will himself to calm down, even as Akira draws him in closer, holding his close to his chest._

_“You ruined everything.” Goro sobs out violently, unable to stop his tears._

_Akira holds him tighter, but can’t seem to disagree._

_-_

_“I don’t know why you agreed to see me.”_

_“I missed you.”_

_“I killed you. I tried to. I wanted you dead.”_

_The silence returns, but only for a beat._

_“You said it yourself, right? If we had met any other time, things could have been different. I want to see that. I want to see you differently, Akechi.”_

_-_

_More time passes and the sun is sinking. Goro feels himself sinking, too._

_His eyes are pink and swollen, and he keeps them fixed on the lake before him. As he tunes into the sound of the late afternoon, he allows the cool air to seep into his skin, into his head. His voice is steady when he speaks, but not without great effort._

_“You always come back for me.”_

_Akira laughs and the sound irritates Goro as much as it lights him up._

_He glares at Akira, hoping his desire to batter him is evident._

_“You came back for me, too.”_

_It takes a second, but Goro can’t help but smile._

_“It would seem that way, wouldn’t it?” He comments quietly as he looks back over the water._

_Akira goes quiet again, though Goro feels his gaze picking him apart. It’s something he missed, in a way. Nobody could see Goro quiet the way Akira could and nobody would want to._

_After all he did, all he said, who he was and still is- no one would want him. No one should want him._

_When he looks to Akira, Goro thinks maybe that’s not entirely true. Akira’s eyes don’t mirror the evil man they see. All Goro sees is... peace, and deeper, something unnamed. He doesn’t see himself._

_When he turns his body, puts his hands on the soft earth below them, and leans forward, all he sees is Akira- his phantom thief, his enemy, his savior to an extent._

_The distance between them shrinks in so many ways, grows tense and hot as Akira places his palm against Goro’s cheek. Warmth spreads from the contact to Goro’s chest, deep into his heart, and he wants to ignore it, pretend there’s nothing there, but oh._

_When Akira gets closer, the heat only grows until their lips meet and cause a spark._

_Goro grips Akira’s face, pulling him closer as they both catch fire._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u again for reading.........................................ur the real mvp as they say,
> 
> illustration for this chapter by [risa](http://jotaro.tumblr.com/) (u can find the piece [here](https://shuakeshubb.tumblr.com/post/174794137069/drew-this-scene-from-until-it-goes-by-ari-so) if u missed it in the fic)


	3. a gentle linger in the dawn light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> amazing illustration by min (eihakim on tumblr)  
> sorry it took so long to upload !! im sick and always at work :-(  
> please enjoy though !! i will try to upload the rest very soon !!!

iii.  
Akira finds himself in bed, ruminating on his episode earlier in the subway.

In a way, he supposes it was just a matter of time. The past weeks had been riddled with whispers only he could hear and darkness lurking in the corner of his eye.

His body is tight and his head aches. He hadn’t said a word since Futaba and Morgana confronted him.

He knows what he should say, knows how he should tell his friends the truth. 

“I’m worried, Akira.”

Morgana is laying on his chest, but he’s looking away as he speaks, into the dark of the attic. Maybe Morgana sees something Akira can’t. Maybe everyone is having trouble adapting back to normality, just as Akira is.

“Something’s really wrong, and I know,” Morgana sighs and rests his head, “I know you’re doing your best for us. You’ve always done your best for us.

“I just want you to know we want to do our best for you, too.”

The words sting in a way they shouldn’t. Of course Morgana is right- he had been there for his friends when they needed him most. He’s being an asshole for pushing them away when all they want is to help.

He lays there in silence with Morgana, searching for anything- a stock answer, a deflection, honesty, anything.

“In the subway station earlier...” Akira weighs his words, worried they won’t make sense.

“You saw something, right? You looked scared.” Morgana looks at Akira now, though their eyes don’t quite meet.

“I did. I saw... Mementos. It was like we were actually there.” Despite his best efforts, his voice grows quiet and weak.

“Akira…” Morgana remarks but also seems to struggle with his words. “Does that happen a lot? You’ve been so distant lately. Is that why?”

The attic becomes silent again as Akira runs through the past weeks in his mind. Over and over, he comes up with the same answer. It’s a truth he wants to ignore, but lately the feeling of fear is crushing.

“It’s hard to say it. I feel like maybe I really didn’t make that big of an impact as I thought. I mean, I don’t want to sound crazy, but it feels like I’m not even the same person. As if me and Joker really are different people. He’s a hero, after all, and I’m no one.”

“That’s not true! You saved all of us, you saved the world. Akira, we would be lost without you.”

And yes, Akira knows that, but he has trouble making himself believe it. He looks back into the past and sees someone else with his face taking credit for all his work.

He struggles for the words to tell this to Morgana, to convey the confusion and anxiety he’s been having lately. As with many things, he comes up short.

There has to be a way to break out of his head. There has to be someone who will understand.

-

Akira walks the dark empty alleys and finds a spot on the steps of Takemi’s clinic. He had been unable to sleep even after Morgana had attempted to console him. His thoughts continued to race and his pulse grew heavier in his ears, so he slipped on his shoes and went for a walk.

After half an hour of sitting quietly, Akira’s phone buzzes and he almost drops it with how quickly he scrambles to unlock it.

[It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?] Even through text, Akira can hear Goro’s formal tone.

He lets out a breath he was holding and responds.

[Shouldnt you also be asleep??]

[I have casework. I haven’t slept in at least 24 hours.]

[Are you sweepy :(]

[Of course I’m sweepy. Why are you texting me at 1 in the morning?]

[I want to see you. Not rn but tomorrow are u free]

A minute passes, then several.

[I get off at 4 tomorrow. Meet me at the station. Bring coffee.]

-

It’s 4 pm, the following day.

Akira stands by the police station’s entrance, equipped with a few painkillers for his head and a coffee- blonde roast, no sugar, no cream.

“You’re here.”

Akira jumps and looks over his shoulder as he’s greeted with a laugh.

“Did I scare you? You look like you’ve seen...” Goro trails off and his face turns when he notices Akira’s demeanor.

“No, I’m okay. Everything is okay.” Akira holds out the coffee and smiles.

While Goro doesn’t take the cup, he does take notice to the slight tremble in Akira’s hand and his tense shoulders.

“You look like shit.” The detective frowns and motions Akira to follow him. “You can rest at my place for a bit. We can talk after. Did you get to sleep last night?”

The question goes unanswered, and when Goro looks over his shoulder, he sees Akira with his eyes fixed on the floor. His concentration seems dulled, however, as if he’s having trouble staying focused.

“Walk next to me.” Goro stops and waits for Akira to catch up. When he does, Goro finally takes the coffee and walks alongside the younger man.

For the remainder of the walk to Goro’s apartment, Akira is totally silent.

-

“Make yourself comfortable.” Goro opens the door for Akira and lets him in first. He watches as the once steady hands of the phantom thief remove his jacket, then his shoes.

Soon, Akira is sitting on the couch, slouched slightly as he studies his hands.

The living room is dead quiet.

“I missed you.”

Akira glances up and can’t help but smile. Honesty was always so jarring coming from Goro, but never unwelcome.

“I apologize that our schedules conflicted this week. I meant to visit you at Leblanc, but it was always too late in the day.” He sits on the couch next to Akira, but not too close.

“I don’t mind. You can come over whenever you want, I always have time for you. I always want to see you. I always want to be with you.” Akira leans closer to Goro and gives him a weak smile.

The words seem to stir something in Goro that’s only evident from a spark in his wide eyes. Akira identifies with that feeling- he doesn’t have words for it, but it’s something powerful that he shares with Goro.

“You’re a lunatic. But I like hearing that very much. I feel like there’s something you’re leaving out, though. Why the urgency last night?”

Akira’s face falls as he contemplates the question. Honesty, right?

“I,” Akira pauses and lets out a long sigh, “I feel like garbage. I’m seeing things, and hearing things. I can barely sleep at night. But when I’m feeling good, I almost feel like another person. I hate it.”

Goro regards Akira for a moment, studies his features intently, then smiles. It’s a genuine smile, and Akira feels like Goro might burst into laughter at any moment.

“I know just how that feels. It’s terrifying, isn’t it? I lost a lot of sleep searching under my bed and in my closet for cameras, wires, something as proof that _he_ was watching to me. I would hear my mother.” Goro closes his eyes as if he’s hearing her now. “Everyone started to look like Shido’s henchmen. Everyone looked so disgusting, so dirty. I couldn’t trust anyone. It never helped to have a name for it, but I know it’s a reaction to trauma. Shido had put me through more than even I deserved, and it stuck with me. 

“I can never forgive him; I’m not that kind of man. You, though? I know you are. You’ve forgiven me more than I deserve. You’re strong- you know that- and you have many friends who are your strength when you can’t be your own.” He withdraws as his cheeks grow warm. “And you have me, tired and weak as I may be. I would..” 

Goro’s speech comes to a halt as a flush rises to his face. 

Akira grabs his hand firmly.   
“You’re going to make me cry. Of course you’re strong, Akechi. You’re the second strongest man I know.”

“Who’s the first?”

“Boss.”

“That’s fair.’

“I’m serious, though. You’re so strong and sensitive. That’s why I trust you. You’ve been through way more than I ever could imagine, and you’re here, you’re with me.” Akira frowns and rubs the back of Goro’s hand with his thumb. “I guess that’s another thing. A lot of my nightmares, they’re about you.

[“They’re not bad because you’re there. They’re bad because... I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking of that day when you saved us. But in my dreams, it’s twisted. I’m holding that gun on you. In my dreams, I’m the one who killed you. When I wake up, I can’t shake it. I didn’t kill you, but I’m the reason you died there.”](http://eihakim.tumblr.com/post/174888363347/we-all-got-what-we-deserved-i-believe-and)

“I can’t begin to explain how wrong you are. I killed myself. I’m the reason I died there.”

The room grows quiet and Akira studies Goro’s hands in his own. His skin crawls in a vague way that spells shame.

“You didn’t deserve it.”

“Kurusu. We all got what we deserved, I believe, and more.” 

The silence returns, but it’s not as tense, not as heavy. Akira is shocked when Goro pulls his hands away to cup Akira’s chin. The detective’s touch is warm and he can’t help but lean into it.

“After all, I’ve done nothing to deserve you.”

-

“You’re welcome to stay the night. It’s getting late.” Goro stands from the small dinner table and gathers the multiple empty instant meal packages. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“You can sleep on the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.” Akira nods.

“You’re taller than me, you should sleep on the bed. The couch is too small.” Goro throws the trash away and turns to face Akira, crossing his arms. “So I will sleep on the couch.”

The two don’t quite reach an agreement, but resolve to lay blankets on the floor and watch DVDs until they fall asleep.

While they’re on their second episode of a poorly paced crime drama, Akira hums thoughtfully and turns to Goro.

“I was wondering,” he muses, “What was it like when you came back home? You really haven’t talked about it.”

Goro pauses the episode and mulls the question for a bit. When he speaks, his voice is missing that gentle tone. It’s replaced with something tired and bitter.

“It was bizarre to say the least, but It was exactly what you might imagine. I came back here, and everything was as I had left it. It was just like coming home after a long, long day of work. It was late when I came to and by the time I made it to Leblanc, Boss was already leaving. He must have known something happened. You told him, didn’t you? He looked petrified, but he let me in. I stayed in your room that night.” A bit of warmth enters his voice again. “It was a little dusty, but it smelled like you.

“I couldn’t believe it. I had no idea how long I was gone, or if you and your friends ever succeeded. The next day when I talked to you on the phone… Do you remember that?”

“I remember. You cried, you were so upset.” Akira nods.

“I explicitly remember you crying as well.” 

Akira shrugs but doesn’t deny it. He remembers crying long after the phone call, too. 

“You were telling me about your nightmare. That night in your room, I had this dream, I still have it sometimes. I’ll be in a crowded room, surrounded by men in suits- but I can’t see their faces. When I look closer, it’s me,” Goro’s smile fades, and he almost looks lost, as if he’s a faceless suit himself. “But I feel like I have to push through them all, like there’s something I have to get to. I get to the front of the room and then I’ll see what it is.

“Destiny has played a cruel trick on us, Kurusu. In doing so, however, I believe we’ve both been granted something amazing, something that not many people get...”

A contemplative expression takes Goro’s face as shakes his head.

“Nevermind that. I’m sorry for waxing poetic. I’m sure you’ve heard enough.”

“We were just at the best part. You have to tell me what we have, or it’s bad story telling.” Akira brings Goro’s hand close to his mouth and smiles.

Deep in thought, Goro responds with his voice gentle but confident.

“We have a second chance.”

-

“So what are you looking for in the crowded room? What do you find? Is it always the same thing?”

“Always.”

“Well, what is it?”

“You, but you’re in a suit, and you’re smiling.”

Akira laughs, a deep, clear sound- almost music to Goro.

“I’m smiling because I’m in a room with so many of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again ty min and risa so much for contributing even tho ive been a dumb bimbo you guys rock..
> 
> thank u everyone who is reading/liking/etc..............i rly appreciate it so so much


	4. you remain my time and place

iv.

Akira wakes with a start, and to the sound of his own voice.

When he sits up, scans the room frantically with his eyes, it sets in that he has no idea where he is. The room is unfamiliar, the smell is unfamiliar. The crushing weight in his chest, however, is familiar, painfully so.

Panic leaks into his brain like a toxin when he realizes, once again, that he’s in danger.

He feels his throat go dry and his blood go cold as he tries to recall what happened.

“Akechi!” He shouts then brings his knees to his chest. If Goro wasn’t there, if he was never there- Akira feels his chest constrict. For all he knows, he’s been alone this whole time, talking to a ghost, talking to himself. 

The room begins to spin as a pressure builds in Akira’s skull. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees dark bodies begin to take shape, and hears a familiar groan.

“Akechi!” He shouts again, and covers his face as the room begins to dim. 

Whispers begin building up in his ears, and the atmosphere shifts. Everything around him gets louder, darker, heavier. Soon, he’s drowning.

Through his anxiety he hears something behind him, shifting the muddy waters.

“What’s going on?”

Akira all but leaps out of his skin.

“Akechi...” he stands abruptly and reaches out for Goro. 

The warmth of Goro’s hands does little to shake Akira out of his delusion. 

“What’s wrong?” Goro asks again, but his voice is off- it’s as if he’s speaking through the receiver on a phone.

Akira pulls away and lets out a deep breath, trying to center himself again, trying to reconstruct his mask. He knows the right answer and tries desperately to believe it.

There’s no response. As Akira searches for something to say, he only comes across the same name, burnt onto his tongue. 

Goro holds Akira’s hands tight and begins to sit on the makeshift bed on the floor, leading his phantom thief down with him. When they’re both seated, Goro pulls Akira closer until they’re eye to eye. 

When Akira tries to speak, or even cry, he fails. 

“You’re safe with me. Just relax- you’re safe.” 

Akira closes his eyes as he focuses on Goro’s voice. The sound is smooth as it washes over him and into his ears. He shudders and leans into Goro, resting his head on the detective’s shoulder.

“I forgot where I was,” he whispers as Goro strokes his hair. “I thought I was somewhere else, and that you were gone.”

“I’m not gone. I’m right here, okay? Nothing can keep me away.”

The words are simple, elegant, and confident in a way only Goro could speak them. Akira can hear honesty in his voice. 

The prospect of never being apart lights something up in his chest. He imagines them living together: himself making dinner for Goro and listening to him talk about work. He imagines sleeping in the same bed, or even floor, as Goro every night. He imagines kissing Goro good morning and goodbye and hello and goodnight. He imagines never being apart.

For the first time in months, Akira feels sure of something. He focuses on Goro’s steady breathing and soft hands; on the smell of instant coffee and lavender scented soap; on the warmth in his brain and the butterflies in his stomach.

“I love you, Akechi.”

Goro is quiet, shocked as he processes the words. All at once, he thinks of a slurry of things to say. He contemplates putting an end to this right now, laughing in Akira’s face, pushing him away because ‘I don’t deserve you.’

He can’t, though. No part of him could kill something he’s wanted so badly for so long.

Instead, he pulls away from Akira and holds him at arm’s length. He searches the younger man’s face, prays that maybe he’s joking, or that he regrets what he said. Again, he sees peace, and deeper, something unnamed- no, not unnamed anymore. 

Before he can stop himself, he’s pulling Akira close, awkwardly pushing their lips together. His fingers are anchored onto Akira’s arms so deep they’ll bruise.

Akira finds himself gripping Goro’s face, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. He feels Goro shiver beneath his hands and can’t stop himself from smiling into the kiss.

Time slows down, as it’s prone to do. Goro’s quick pulse is a foil to the slow motion and Akira feels inclined to count each beat. As he reaches five, ten, thirty, he feels his own heart match the tempo. Something about the heat between them mixed with the trembling in Goro’s hands and the butterflies in Akira’s stomach- it all brings the once phantom thief into the present.

If it’s a minute or an hour that passes, neither man seems to mind. Akira is content in this moment, reassured that, despite his confusion with the world around him, he’s not really alone. 

Even if the world were to fall apart once more, if destiny were to pit two strangers against each other again, Akira knows he could handle it a second time.

If Goro is with him, holding onto him so hard it hurts, he thinks he can handle anything. As long as Goro never lets go, not after a year or two years or even after infinity, Akira knows for a fact he could handle anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh hi i haven’t uploaded in a while im sorry!!!especially to the great artists who so brilliantly illustrated the fic..im just gettin sick and always at work....i hope this is all good..im rly tired and upset about my writing but I’ll upload as my civic duty...i love u guys...keep on chooglin


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